


surly bonds of earth//i slipped them with you

by Lelelea



Category: Robot Series - Isaac Asimov
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-13
Updated: 2019-02-20
Packaged: 2019-06-09 18:38:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15273801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lelelea/pseuds/Lelelea
Summary: Daneel is an astronaut who is also a robot, Elijah is part of Mission Control. They muse upon the stars and mint chocolate chip ice cream.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> IDK man. We just doin things by the seat of our pants now I guess.
> 
> I kind of envision Lije as a grumpier, less weird version of Jeff Goldblum from Independence Day I guess.

To be fair, Elijah had always believed that mechanical objects had feelings. His time in law enforcement had acquainted him with persnickety radios, aggravated cars and computers that refused to turn on.

He'd simply never thought that they could be so very good looking. 

Daneel was tall, bronzed and came equipped with a winning smile on top of a chiseled jaw and stunning blue eyes. Those tight uniform shirts did wonders for his biceps. The designer, Han Fastolfe, when asked why he'd made him so attractive, had carelessly replied that Daneel was made exactly in the image of his creator. He would never age, never die, with only a little oil required for the joints. His little atomic heart would probably be ticking until the end of the universe.

At this rate, men like Elijah would be put out of business.

The crew that the robot was training with seemed to love him. They were always hanging out together, watching a movie, playing volleyball on the beach. He was cordial and delightful to everyone he crossed paths with, and would probably put Captain America to shame. His eyes even crinkled at the corners when he smiled, like he had at Elijah the other day when he was exiting the commissary. 

Jessie, his ex-wife had told him in no uncertain terms that he most definitely had a crush on the astronaut. Bentley was on a playdate with a friend from school and they had gone down to a little bistro that served space shuttle shaped pastries. She smoked her cigarette determinedly, oblivious to the stares of any passersby. She used to love cigars, before the divorce, but had switched to the more fragrant cigarettes from Asia.

"You should talk to him," she said. 

He rolled his eyes. "He's not going to talk to some ass from Mission Control."

"You've got a nice ass," she said speculatively. "Don't be silly. Y'all are critical to the success of every mission."

"I don't know anything about him," he huffed.

"For heaven's sake," she leaned forward and stubbed her cigarette out, blowing a smoke ring into his face, "you used to be a detective, so put on your Sherlock hat and do some detective work! Find out what his favorite color is, for God's sake."

As fate would have it, it was the night before the launch, when Elijah was trying his best to not fall asleep and study the photographs from Hope, Curiosity's little sister on Europa that a tanned hand set down some wonderfully black coffee in front of him. He frowned and looked up, only to see Daneel pull a chair over and sit down next to him. The large screen display in the room washed out everything else, sharpening the astronaut's features.

"I was passing by when I saw you in here. Why have you not gone home yet?" Daneel's voice carried a hint of a New England accent, faintly reminiscent of those movies with Katharine Hepburn from the 40s. Up close, he could see that the robot's face had freckles, dotted sweetly upon his nose and high cheekbones.

"I like the overtime," said Elijah dryly. Daneel cracked a grin at that, and all of a sudden, he understood why the local reporter had nearly swooned when he'd smiled at her. He was made to be devastatingly handsome. That was probably a requirement for the astronaut corps anyways.

"You won't be paid any if you fall asleep," said the robot. Elijah smiled and took a sip of the coffee. It didn't have as much sugar as he liked, but it would do the trick.

"Thank you," he said finally. "But I thought the coffeemaker had gone kaput the other day."

"I fixed it," said Daneel. There was no hint of pride in his voice, only his stating of a simple fact.

"Is there anything you can't do?" asked Elijah with a touch of asperity.

"Only whatever the Three Laws of Robotics prevent me from doing." 

"So no drinking or lying, got it," he replied, trying to lighten the topic.

"I am more than capable of both," Daneel replied, even keeled, "unless it causes direct harm to another human being."

"Well," Elijah swiveled around in his chair to face him directly, "I'm sure that means I could drink you underneath the table at Benny's."

Daneel paused for a moment, as though unsure of what to say. Poor thing. He was probably used to people swooning over him and his performance in training. It wasn't as if they let him leave the compound anyways, out of fear for his safety.

"I don't think you could," he said slowly, "but I would welcome the chance to try."

"Won't alcohol rot your circuits?" he asked, and immediately regretted it. It was mean of him to throw the man's hardware in his face like that. He had brief visions of a Weyland Corps David 8 trying to kill him for rudeness before Daneel spoke.

"Robots are incapable of cirrhosis, but I'm flattered by your concern for my motherboard." 

Perhaps it was the combination of late night caffeine and the strangeness of the situation, but Elijah threw back his head and guffawed.

"Maybe after I finish this report," he said, still chuckling, "we'll go get a drink." 

"I could help you with that," said Daneel. "I am trained in interpreting data and further analysis. Tell me what you're looking at."

 _Your face,_ thought Elijah. Instead, he started in on the terrain analysis of one of Europa's glaciers, the astronaut listening patiently. By the time they were done, Elijah's hair had gotten progressively messier from him mussing it up and it was 0415. Daneel looked at the clock regretfully. 

"Time for preflight check ins," he said, standing and stretching. 

"Thank you for helping with the analysis. I'll be sure to credit you in the report," answered Elijah, leaning back in his chair.

"You would do that?" asked the robot, oddly intent. Elijah shrank under the scrutiny. 

"I-of course. You brought me coffee, it's the least I could do."

"Robots don't have intellectual property rights," said Daneel.

"Astronauts do," said Elijah. He felt a strange flare of protectiveness for the man, no, machine. "Now go on, you're going to be late."

Daneel smiled at him and put a hand on his shoulder. "Thank you," he said, and he was gone, long legs disappearing around the corner. He should have given him a kiss for good luck.

 

Elijah startled at that thought. Where had that come from?

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't hurt me, Im writing more chapters for my other C/Fe stories, almost done typing it out!

Flight Director Gladia Delmarre threw down her headset in an uncharacteristic display of irritation. "Scrub it," she said. Florida's weather had, once again, cut short the mission to resupply the ISS. The American astronauts would have to wait before they could be replaced.

Everyone groaned. They would have to drain the cryogenics again. Knowing how temperamental the climate was, it would be another two or three days, unless the clouds cleared up. People began to trickle out to refill their coffee cups and a low buzz started up as conversations were resumed. 

"The media's going crazy again," sighed Sachin. His Twitter feed was a bright mass of tweets about the mission. "Some reporter had the bright idea of calling Olivaw the robot who couldn't fly, and that this is a sign that he's bad luck for launches of any sort."

"He's hardly the first robot we've sent into space," demurred Elijah, shutting down his workstation, "just the first that looks like us."

Sachin hummed, noncommittal. He viewed Daneel with some suspicion, but was polite enough to his face.

"Well, I'm heading out," he said, grabbing his cardigan. "I've got a season of The Expanse to finish. What about you?"

Elijah had, after some deliberation, submitted his report with Daneel as co-contributor. He hadn't heard back from his boss yet, but then again, Dr. Lanning was prone to sleeping in. 

"Probably a nap, I've been running on fumes this week. Had to submit some stuff last night." 

Sachin smiled at him slyly. "Oh, is that what we call you hanging out with one of our esteemed astronauts at 3 in the morning?"

"It was nothing personal," said Elijah, snappy, "we were just talking." Sachin followed him out, his shit-eating grin affixed firmly on his face.

"He brought you coffee and apparently fixed the coffeemaker," said Sachin, "in some cultures, we call that a date."

"It was  _not_ a date," shot back the other man. "It was just a man bringing another man a coffee as a gesture of goodwill, because the other man is part of the team that is responsible for his welfare while he is strapped to a giant rocket."

"Tell you what," said Sachin, patting him on the back condescendingly, "the day he brings me coffee at the witching hour is the day I'll believe that excuse."

"Does everyone know of this?" asked Elijah despairingly, looking for his car.

"Blame the janitors," Sachin called out over his shoulder as he departed. "They know everything that goes on here."

\------------------

The pier was quiet, with only seagulls for company. One squawked at him as he passed it by, but he paid it no heed. When he'd first moved here, he had made the mistake of feeding them. He still had the scars to show for it. The slushie he held had almost melted completely and he debated the merits of giving it to the gull eyeing him beadily, instead deciding to lick it up as it slid down his wrist. 

But of course, the universe was cruel to him, and utterly unfair so who else could he expect but Daneel Olivaw to loom over him in all his glory, head haloed by the rays of the setting sun. 

"I'm not due back until later tonight," he said, and winced. 

"That is not why I am here," Daneel peered at him quizzically. "I often come down here to enjoy the twilight. It gives me a sense of peace."

"Oh," he said. So Fastolfe had given him the ability to feel human emotion. He wanted to shake the roboticist until his head rolled off. What was he doing, making a mechanical man capable of hunger, happiness, sadness? It would only lead to trouble in the end. 

"You are wondering why my creator programmed me to feel emotion," stated Daneel. He sat down next to Elijah and began taking off his shoes, starting in on his socks as he spoke. "It is because he realized that the human experience is directly linked to sensation and sentiment. He wished for me to understand what it was like to be him." 

Elijah stared, transfixed at the robot's bare feet. They were as tanned as the rest of him, and Daneel toed the water before putting them in, submerging his ankles. The expression on his face was that of relief.

"This would be the closest I have experienced to a vacation," Daneel said, leaning back. 

"They don't really let you out much, do they?" asked Elijah. His slushie had become an unidentifiable mess and he gave up on it, disgusted. The seagull that had been watching him hopped closer and he glared at it.

"No," Daneel replied. "I should be running diagnostics right now on my hand, because it has been causing me trouble the last few days."

The bird launched itself at the cup that had been holding the slushie and instead flew into Elijah's side. He grabbed vainly at the edge of the pier and ended up in warm ocean water. His panicked fall had led to him inhaling a large quantity of it and he flailed as he sank into the murky depths. A pair of large, strong arms grabbed him around the waist and hauled him back up to the pier. As he coughed out seawater, a warm hand soothingly rubbed circles into his back. 

"Wasn't planning on going swimming," he sighed, hacking up more water. "Really was not."

"We must go to the urgent care center Elijah," said the robot. "Pulmonary edema can be fatal." The hand was still on his back, a steady reassuring weight. Daneel helped him up, steadying him. "If you are too weak to walk, I can carry you."

"Jehoshaphat, no!" croaked out Elijah. "I can walk Mr. Olivaw."

"As you wish," responded the robot. He deftly picked up the jacket that he'd discarded and put it around Elijah. He made to give it back, but Daneel stopped him. 

"It gets quite cold at night here," he said. "I am not affected by ambient temperatures, but you will be, especially right now."

Elijah grumbled something unintelligible and then acquiesced with bad grace, sliding on the jacket. He surreptitiously sniffed it, detecting nothing but a faint smell of detergent and WD-40. Of course, he was a robot and thus would not have any sort of body odor. 

The bedraggled pair arrived at the center an hour later and Elijah was duly fussed over. The nurse practitioner told him that since he'd expelled most of it, he would be fine, but that he was to come back if he developed a fever. 

"That was not fun," he said finally. Daneel looked at him. "I cannot imagine anything fun about nearly drowning," said the robot decisively. "I am glad that you are all right."

"Should I call in sick?" he asked, more to himself than anyone else. "Today is going to be a quiet night."

"You've had quite an ordeal Elijah," Daneel rested a hand on his shoulder. "Perhaps it would be best if you told them what happened and took the night off."

"Stop making sense," groaned Elijah, rubbing his forehead.

"In fact," said Daneel sagely, "if you take the night off, I will personally make you dinner. I have been told that my cooking is unparalleled."

The man gaped at him. 

"It was not a boast Elijah," he continued, "I am merely stating my abilities."

"Unparalleled, eh?" he murmured, pulling the jacket closer around himself. "Fine, but I am driving."

"Very well," said Daneel, "but we need to stop by the grocery store first. Antifreeze is not fit for human consumption, but it is all I have in my kitchen." He gave the stunned man a self-satisfied smile and walked off.

Who the hell gave a robot a sense of humor anyways? He shook his head and hurried after him.

 

 

 

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

"So how did you learn to cook?" Elijah asked, leaning on the countertop. Daneel had lent him a pair of sweats and a cotton shirt, and he watched the robot expertly braise the meat with wine and chop up the celery and parsley with precise movements. He could not stop watching the robot's hands, noting the way the tendons moved underneath the skin, how the flesh shaped around bone. He was muscular, but not too much so, barely hinting at inhuman strength. There were the beginnings of bruises around his chest, but he resolved not to say anything of the matter, grateful to be alive.

"Youtube," replied Daneel, sauteeing the herbs. "While under the care of Dr. Fastolfe, I learned to perfectly mimic most human activities. Youtube aided my education greatly in mastering the particulars of European cuisine."

"You mean to say that you can replicate any dish in the world if you have the instructions and the material," he said, impressed. "Hell, you could build a car for the fun of it."

"Yes, my friend," said Daneel. "Please come here, I wish for you to try the sauce before I take it off the stove."

Elijah approached the pot cautiously with a spoon and took a taste. It seemed as if a million colors had burst upon his tongue.

"Oh goodness," he said.

"Do you mean that you like it?" Daneel hovered behind him, sounding worried.

"Have you thought about opening a restaurant?" he inquired, setting the spoon down. "This is truly amazing. You can cook, and I can direct people to their seats." 

Turning, he found him to be far closer than he had anticipated. Up close, Daneel's eyes were so very blue. 

"I'm going to go set the table," he said, and escaped the suddenly stifling kitchen. 

Daneel must have sensed that something had unsettled Elijah, and when they finally sat down to eat, he spoke only of light topics, such as the weather (terrible, but the sunshine wasn't so bad), training schedules (long and boring) and the quality of the TV programming nowadays (not as bad as it used to be).  Daneel enjoyed golden age science fiction, while Elijah preferred ghost stories. Daneel spoke of his team with genuine affection, telling him stories of how they would prank each other, and how Commander Olamunde's hair would float if it wasn't secured in a ponytail, and how so many of the astronauts had terrible eyesight, because space ruined one's eyeball structure. 

 

 _This is a date,_ thought Elijah, watching Daneel eat.  _A real date._ It was also the worst time to have a mental crisis regarding his sexuality, because he could simply not get the image of Daneel's throat, his collarbones shifting underneath his shirt, out of his mind. He mimicked the little motions that human bodies had perfectly, like a real man.

Did that make him a real man? Could Daneel create, evolve new ideas and thoughts? He certainly had preferences, he had talked about how he he didn't get along so well with one of the secretaries at KSC. He could feel, he could think, he could react organically to any situation. He had treated him as he would treat any other man.

"-all right?" Daneel was peering at him again, leaning forward.

"I'm fine, just zoned out for a minute there," said Elijah. "Jehoshaphat, it's late."

"Your partner must be worried about you," said Daneel, rising. "I could drive you home."

"I don't have a partner," he said, and froze.

"My apologies," the robot replied gracefully. "Let me take your plate." As he did so, Elijah grabbed his wrist.

"Let me wash up," he said. 'It's the least I could do after you saved my life and then made me dinner." Daneel stared at him, calculating, and he knew that he was deciding whether that it would better to allow him to do so, or to wash it himself, a Robotic Law conflict.

"Please," he added on, smiling. "It would make me happy." He took the plates from the robot, heading to the sink and turning on the hot water, needing to do something with his hands to calm his heart's frantic beating. He felt irrepressible, giddy. He knew he had to go home, think things through. It was good that he'd brought his car, because he had to go, before he did something monumentally stupid. But he didn't want to.

"Elijah, are you all right?" 

It was Daneel, wonderfully tall, with soft lips and that damned quizzical look on his face. Did he know what it was like to hold someone in his arms, to kiss them? He must have watched enough movies to know. Had he ever wanted to feel that sort of emotion?

Could he?

"I'm fine," said Elijah faintly, and then he ran, back to his home where he could think and sleep in peace, with Daneel's clothes were stuffed deep inside the laundry basket. 

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Changed the timeline. Calvin here is in her 40s as well. 
> 
> I apologize for the late update-I've been finding it difficult to hold my life together. Thank you for sticking by me!
> 
> PS: I'm still crying about poor Oppy. I can't wait to go to Mars and find the little rover. It should be in a museum, not rusting in the sun!

It had been exactly three weeks since Elijah had seen Daneel, or talked to him. If he didn't know better, he would have said that the robot was avoiding him. Sachin and Fanny had both commented on how his temper had become more incendiary than usual. 

He was contemplating taking out the recalcitrant toaster in the cramped office kitchen when he dropped his butter knife just as someone entered the room. He bent down too quick to retrieve it and his head collided with the other person's. 

"I am sorry, Elijah," said Daneel. A furrow had formed on his perfect brow and he pulled Elijah up by the arm in a gesture that reminded him vaguely of his parents' strong grip on him when he was a child. "You are developing a contusion on your forehead. Do you need medical assistance?"

"Ow," complained Elijah. "My head. My toast." He reached ineffectually for the bread that had landed butter side down, blinking away the stars dancing in front of his eyes.  

"It is burnt," said Daneel gravely. "I will make you some more after I have assessed your risk of having received a concussion." His cool fingers danced over Elijah's forehead, probing. When he tried to move away, the robot stopped him with a hand on his neck.

"Uh," said Sachin, taking in the messy tableau before him. "You know what, I'll get my coffee later." The analyst fled, leaving the pair and Elijah groaned again as he broke away from Daneel's grip. 

"You do not like his company," Daneel observed, handing him an ice pack. He took it gratefully, muttering his thanks.

"I do like him," said Elijah, hauling himself up onto the counter and leaning against the wall. "He is simply very aggravating sometimes."

Today, he was wearing a sleek black turtleneck with charcoal grey pants. When Daneel looked at him, he blushed and tore his gaze away, feeling the flush creep up underneath his neck. 

"So how have you been?" he asked hoarsely, hating how dry his throat was at that very moment.

"I have been well," Daneel informed him, handing him a plate of toast and some fresh coffee. "Busy, but well. Commander Olamunde has been training us quite rigorously in Monopoly."

Elijah snorted. "Are you serious?"

"Quite," Daneel informed him, "she says that we must be ready for threats to our bank accounts and mortgages. I have neither, but I am more than willing to learn as this may be a useful skill that will come in handy some day."

"Stiffing people of their money is always a useful skill," Elijah responded. Daneel smiled at him, his eyes crinkling in the corners, and the human felt his heart quicken in response. 

"I believe you have experience with that particular mode of thought," said the robot. "You were a police officer once, yes?"

"I was," replied Elijah contemplatively. "It was interesting work. I joined right out of high school."

"You will have to tell me about that sometime," said Daneel. "You are a fascinating man, Elijah. I would like to know more about you."

"Thank you," said Elijah. "You make pretty good coffee yourself. Which reminds me, I completely forgot to return your clothes."

"I know." Daneel cocked his head. "I saw you wearing my shirt several days ago."

Elijah's mouth opened and closed but nothing came out. The more salacious part of his mind taunted him with visions of cotton blend sliding over lightly tanned synthe-skin before settling on his, as it had been what had mischievously suggested that he wear it to work. 

"You may keep it," he said, "as blue suits you."

"Blue is my colour?" he asked faintly.

"It is," said Daneel. "I am well-versed in colour theory and it is an aesthetically pleasing colour when combined with your skin tone."

"Well, I think-" Elijah mentally scrambled to find his words and his composure, "that uh, blue is a really nice colour, uh, on you too!"

"Thank you," said Daneel. "It is 12:15, and I am late for a meeting with my superiors. I shall see you later. Have a good day Elijah."

He sat there, like an idiot for several minutes after Daneel had walked out. Sachin had returned, and with him came Fanny, Mitaka and Johnson. They crowded around him silently, eyes fixed unnervingly on him.

Sachin spoke first. "Did you kiss?" he demanded. Elijah fixed him with a withering glare.

"Absolutely not," he snarled. "My _very platonic_ friendship with Mr. Olivaw is none of your business."

Johnson rolled his eyes. "So that's why you've been so surly the last few days. Denial ain't just a river," he cackled and the group joined in, laughing at his misery. Whoever had said that men were above gossiping had been a filthy, vicious liar. 

"You couldn't cut the sexual tension in here with a chainsaw," said Fanny, snickering. "Blue looks good on you, seriously Bailey?"

"Enough," said Elijah, letting some of the former police sergeant creep into his voice. The group fell silent and he sighed. "I'm sorry guys, it just hasn't been a good few weeks."

Sachin clapped him sympathetically on the arm. "I'm sorry," he said sincerely. "Is there anything we could do to help?"

He looked at their familiar, comfortable faces. 

"Let's get shit-faced," he said, "after work," he added hastily when Johnson began to protest. 

"Sounds like a good plan," said Fanny. "You'll feel better after some alcohol poisoning."

 

\-----

Their plan did not quite go according to plan. He had forgotten that his favorite coworkers were also five year olds in disguise, enduring their dick jokes in dignified silence. Fanny had recently acquired herself a new boyfriend and she regaled them with tales of domesticity. He smiled as he listened to her, watching her gesticulate enthusiastically. Twice, Johnson had had to duck when her wine bottle flew a little too close to his head.

He had missed this, this camaraderie with his fellows. Back in the department, his buddies Holland and Jaeger had been his closest friends, the shoulders he had wept on when Jez had decided to pack up and leave with Bailey. The decision to get a degree in aeronautical engineering had been unexpected, born of something the divorce lawyer had said in passing, something about being never too old for one's passions. Jez took the car and he hauled his ass down to Florida, graduated summa cum laude and then begged NASA to hire him. Smiling, he took a swig of his beer and then leaned back, content to listen.

"-and then he had the nerve to say that the moon landings were fake! Fake!" she cried. "The nerve of that man!"

"Maybe you should dump him," suggested Sachin. "I'm sure someone less idiotic will come along."

"Listen to him," said Johnson agreeably, his eyes a little unfocused, "he's been married twice. He knows what to do, or what  _not_ to do."

"What do you think, Elijah?" asked Fanny. She looked at him expectantly, but there was a fragile note to her voice that made Elijah sit up a little straighter.

"Dump him," he said. "He's disrespecting your intelligence. You know you can do better."

"He's got his dad voice out," teased Sachin. "You better listen."

"You're a genius when it comes to plotting routes and finding patterns, but..." he gestured uselessly, "you date terrible people."

She winced. "At least you give it to me straight," she replied.

"I'm divorced," he said. "I know what it's like to make bad decisions."

Fanny gave him a sympathetic look. "Thank you for the good advice," she said. He smiled back at her, a little ruefully. He knew all too well the dangers of self-sabotage. The conversation devolved again into smart remarks and complaining about work, although he could catch Sachin shooting him looks from time to time. The man was probably burning up inside with his questions.

"Fine," he grumbled, "ask away."

"AreyouandSpecialistOlivawdating?" he asked in a rush.

"No," he said. "We're just friends. I fell into the pier and he saved me."

"That's romantic," said Johnson. "Man meets man, man falls into ocean and almost dies."

"Then he made me dinner and let me borrow his clothes."

"Oooooooh," said Fanny. "Do I detect a hint of...developing romance?"

"No!" he exclaimed. "Maybe?"

"So were the two of you kissing in the kitchen then?" asked Sachin abruptly. "He was all over you. Come on, you were a cop, surely you know body language!"

Elijah looked at him helplessly. "He's a robot," he said, "do the same rules even apply to him?"

Johnson hummed thoughtfully. "He's still got feelings and a desire to do good. I think that puts him a cut above humans. Technology is usually just a better version of humanity."

"Yeah," said Fanny. "He's the kind of guy you want the aliens to meet."

"I do like him a lot," Elijah admitted. "I just don't know how to express it. Can he even say yes? Is he a person?"

"What do you think?" Sachin asked, intent.

"I think he is."

"Well, there you go," said Johnson. "Now who wants to play Trivial Pursuit?"

Before they left for the night, Fanny stopped and looked at him for a long moment.

"Be careful with your heart," she said softly. 

"I will," he said, and on a sudden impulse, hugged her. She returned it with equal ferocity.

"My mom was a police officer," she continued, "and sometimes she would have off weeks too. She didn't tell anyone until it was too late. Please don't do that to yourself, okay?"

"Okay," he said. "I will."

"Promise me that," she told him, fiercely.

"I swear on the space program," he said solemnly and she laughed.

"See you tomorrow," she told him, and shut the door behind her.

 

\----

"You wanted to speak to me, Mr. Lanning?"

"Come on in son," said the director, "and close the door behind you."

Elijah bristled at the paternal tone but complied. Dr. Calvin was sitting in one of the chairs and nodded to him stiffly as he sat down. He returned the nod. She was the one who had designed Daneel's initial prototype, the Mark 1. He had heard stories about her icy demeanor and held a healthy amount of respect for her.

"Tell me why you put the robot's name on this," said the director, sliding his report back to him.

"He assisted me with the calculations necessary for several portions of the report," Elijah said. "I thought it would be prudent to credit him and his work."

"Mr. Baley, are you in the habit of putting down the serial numbers of the computers you use as well?"

"I would never insult Mr. Olivaw by implying that he is a computer," said Elijah hotly.

"He's right," said Dr. Calvin sardonically. "Fastolfe would never stoop so low as to mimic a Macintosh."

Lanning leaned back and regarded him steadily.

"I am not averse to Daneel forming relationships with others," said the director delicately, "but-"

"Sir, I assure you that his virtue is safe with me," said Elijah innocently. 

"What Alfred means to say is that we are worried about you causing positronic snarls in his brain," said Dr. Calvin bluntly, rolling her eyes at Lanning's spluttering, "as Daneel is still in the process of hashing out priorities with regards to the three law of robotics."

"I would never hurt him," Elijah frowned, crossing his arms.

She nodded. "You may do so unintentionally."

"I see," he said slowly. "Would you please explain what you mean?"

"There are certain cases where, if the First Law conflicted with the Second Law, it could potentially cause him to shut down. Positronic brain pathways, as you know, are nearly impossible to recover. He may be unable to respond to such conflicts appropriately."

Elijah chewed his lip. "You won't be able to hide the world from him," he said contemplatively. "Jehoshaphat, I could barely do that with my son. One day you won't be there to protect him anymore. What's he to do then?"

"The risks outweigh the rewards," Lanning said. Dr. Calvin watched him with cool disinterest. If she disagreed with the director, she did not show it outwardly. 

"I think that you should ask Daneel," he said, looking at Dr. Calvin. "Ask him how he feels, what he thinks. He could surprise you."

"We know how it thinks," replied Lanning. "Daneel Olivaw is the greates marvel of human engineering the world has ever seen, and it must be able to carry out his duties without interference."

"He is the best of us all," said Calvin softly.

"Elijah, it is only a machine. It does not feel. It does not think. It simply performs the best suited action thanks to a series of patented algorithms that Susan wrote and then executed, flawless if I may add," Lanning said, looking at her. She did not respond, choosing to watch Elijah the way one would study an organism on a microscope slide. 

"I understand," he said. It was a lie. He just wanted Lanning off his back. Who was he to tell him who and what to care for?

 

 

\----

The doorbell rang insistently and Elijah swore as his back twinged when he got off the couch. "I'm coming," he said.

It was Daneel. He stood there, face unusually expressionless and arms hanging motionless by his sides. Something was wrong. 

"Daneel?" he asked.

"Elijah," said the robot haltingly. "I need..."

"Come in," he said. Daneel obeyed instantly, stepping smartly over the threshold. Elijah led him to the couch and he sat artlessly, eyes focused on a point beyond Elijah's head.

"What's wrong?" he asked. 

"Specialist Detmer is dead," said Daneel and shuddered. "I am unable to process her death in a rational manner."

"Oh," said Elijah softly. "Oh god, I am so sorry Daneel."

"She had a brain aneurysm," he said, voice devoid of inflection. "She died while right next to me Elijah. I was unable to save her life. If I were to have let go of the controls, the lander would have crashed in the simulation."

First law activation, conflicting with second law. 

"This is affecting me far more than I had theorized that it would," his words were beginning to slur. "I came to you, Elijah, because when I am in your presence, I am able to process emotion more efficiently."

Elijah seized him by the arms. "There was nothing you could have done," he said to the robot firmly, "a brain aneurysm is unpredictable."

"I am built to understand and combat unpredictability," said Daneel, "and I have failed."

"No!" interjected Elijah. "No! Daneel! You are the best of us!" He gave him a little shake. "You are inherently decent and kind."

"She was my friend," said the robot dully, "and I could not help her when she needed it the most."

"Daneel," said Elijah carefully, knowing he was the only thing standing between Daneel and positronic shutdown, "please look at me." The robot complied dutifully.

"Humans are predictable," he said gently, "and so are you. But the things that happen to us are not. Terrible things happen without explanation all the time."

"She complained about headaches and we dismissed them," said Daneel. "We didn't listen, and now she is dead."

"The headaches could have been from so many other things," he said quickly, "dehydration, tension...you never could have predicted this. The best physicians in the world could not predict for this. You aren't a doctor Daneel. You are a brilliant person but your brilliance lies in other things."

"What you say is logical, Elijah," said the astronaut, "but this has affected me deeply."

"We don't have to talk about it if you don't want to," he said desperately. "I don't-how is your hand? Did you fix it?"

"I did," he said. "It was a damaged servo."

"That's wonderful," he said. "I wish I could do that for my arthritis. It makes it difficult to type sometimes."

"That is a painful condition. How do you live with the pain?"

Elijah smiled thinly, remembering the bullet holes in his back. "Some things are worth the pain," he said quietly. "Life is strange like that."

"I have not ever experienced pain," Daneel said.

"That isn't true Daneel," Elijah chided. They had moved much closer throughout the conversation, close enough that he could see the smoothness of Daneel's face, the perfect irises and curve f his cheek in incredible detail.

"This distress that you feel, this is pain, emotional pain. Sometimes it will translate into physical distress."

"I feel?"

"Yes, Daneel! You feel!"

At this, Daneel slid forward and wrapped his arms around Elijah. He was warm, but not intolerably so, and his tawny hair tickled Elijah's face. 

"Thank you, Elijah," said Daneel softly. "You have made me content."

Elijah raised a trembling hand and pressed it against Daneel's head, holding him steady, letting his fingers slide through hair. 

 


End file.
